A Killing Notion: A Magical Dressmaking Mystery Read Free Page B

she was gone.
    I went back to the workroom to get ready for Leslie’s consultation, which I knew would go more smoothly than Danica’s had. I pulled out the sapphire jacquard and the confetti-sequined fabric for the underskirt, setting it on the worktable. I already had my sketches for her dress, so I was good to go.
    Gracie bopped up and down on her toes, looking like a child at her first rodeo who was trying desperately—and unsuccessfully—to stay cool and calm. She snuck a glance at Shane, who looked a bit stricken by the array of colorful ribbon assortments, small stuffed bears in cheerleading outfits, and cowbells.
    But to his credit, he seemed to sense her excitement and put a grin on his face. “Go big or go home,” he said. My exact sentiment just a little while ago.
    It was all the encouragement Gracie needed. She went from toe-bopping to full-on bouncing, moving around the worktable and picking up different adornments. “I don’t want a teddy bear,” she said after a minute, referring to the center focal piece of the mum.
    “Not even a bear holding a pair of sewing scissors?” he asked.
    Wow, I was impressed. He knew Gracie and her passion for sewing—and respected it. That was pretty majorfor a fifteen-year-old girl and her sixteen-year-old new boyfriend.
    But the moment was lost on Gracie. She just shook her head and said, “No. Something besides a teddy bear, for sure.” Miniature bears were traditional, and while Gracie wanted a mum, I knew she was going to do it her own way. I could see her wanting squares of colorful fabric, an honest-to-goodness pair of Ginghers, or a rolled-up measuring tape.
    He ran his hand through his hair, making it stand on end. The dark blond color set off his tanned skin. Gracie, on the other hand, had a beautiful olive complexion, courtesy of her father, Will. Shane and Gracie fit together, both sun-kissed and fresh-faced, clearly smitten, without a care in the world. “I guess we’ll figure it out,” he said.
    “I’ll make it,” I volunteered. “You don’t have to worry about a thing.”
    “Oh, but I want to help,” Gracie said. “Can I?”
    “Absolutely. Darlin’, you and I are going to have a mum-making party,” I said, just as Leslie, my second Helping Hands student, and another girl, came in the front door of the shop.
    Leslie’s brown doe eyes opened wide. “Where you, like, get together and everybody makes their mums?”
    “Awesome,” the second girl said.
    “Everyone,” Leslie said, gesturing to her friend, “this is Carrie. She’s pretty new to Bliss. Carrie, this is everyone.”
    Carrie smiled, a faint dimple marking her cheek, and waved. She immediately headed across the room to look at the prêt-à-porter.
    “Do you have one yet?” I asked Leslie.
    She shook her head.
    “Then you can come and help make yours.” The more, the merrier. “You, too, if you like,” I said to Carrie.
    “I have mine,” she said. “But thanks.”
    But Leslie’s eyes grew even wider. “I get a mum?” Her gaze slid to Shane for the briefest second. “But I don’t have a boyfriend,” she said, her voice dropping.
    “You don’t need a boyfriend to wear a mum,” Gracie said. “You just need a mum.”
    Leslie looked at Gracie, then at Shane, as if she were trying to decide if this were true. “It’s the twenty-first century,” I said. “You can give yourself a mum if you want to.”
    Leslie relaxed, but her shoulders lifted and her chest rose and fell with her excitement. “Then I want the biggest mum at Bliss High! I want to show those girls who . . . who—”
    She broke off, once again looking at Gracie and Shane, her attention focusing on Shane for an extra few seconds.
    “Those girls who what?” I asked.
    She rooted her feet to the ground and raised her chin slightly. “I want the shy girls and the geeky girls and the girls like me to believe in themselves,” she said. “I want them to hear what you just said. That this is the